


Lay Me Down

by Weasleychick32



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bucket List, Cancer, Domestic, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weasleychick32/pseuds/Weasleychick32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam closes the gates of hell and it kills him. Cas falls and stays fallen. Dean tries to pick up the pieces and hold them together. Then Cas gets cancer and the downward spiral continues at a more rapid clip than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist  
> Lay Me Down - Sam Smith (during the main story)  
> This Love - Taylor Swift (Epilogue)
> 
> A Most Helpful Guide to Achieving Maximum Angst  
> Step 1: Sit and listen through Lay Me Down by Sam Smith. No distractions, just feel the song and think Destiel thoughts.  
> Step 2: Read the main story while listening to Lay Me Down on repeat.  
> Step 3: Switch song over to This Love by Taylor Swift and play on repeat while reading epilogue.  
> Step 4: Cry.

 

Life has never been easy for Dean Winchester. Or any Winchester for that matter. But Dean can exactly pinpoint the moment when his life completely unraveled with no hope of getting put back together again. The moment he burst into that old molding church just in time to watch his baby brother inject Crowley with the final syringe.

The last of the blood pushed out of the syringe and into Crowley’s neck and then Crowley passed out and Sam just dropped. Dean vaguely remembers holding Sam as he convulsed on the ground. Sam’s final words, ‘ _We did it_ ’ and Dean’s final words, ‘ _Don’t you die on me you son of a bitch_ ’.

But Sam did die. Right there under a sky full of falling angels. Turns out Dean and Castiel both failed. They both screwed up beyond repair. And from that moment on everything Dean did was duty. Automatic. Routine. Living through one shade of gray after another.

With the gates of hell closed, Abaddon was no longer a problem, but there was the new matter of the angels and Metatron and Cas without his grace. Dean’s first action after sitting with Sam’s stiff and cold body for over a day before he finally set him up on his pyre and burned him was to track down Cas. The phone call he received from the man in question made things a lot simpler than they would have been otherwise.

Dean left Crowley in that church and was content to think that he’d never have to see the cause of his brother’s death again. Of course though, for a Winchester, life is never that easy.

It was all hands on deck to try and stop Metatron and human or not, Crowley had some debt to pay and was all too eager to try and wash some of the blood off of his hands. They defeated Metatron; the human, the angel turned human, and the demon turned human. With a little help from a disgraced angel named Gadreel, too. Crowley didn’t survive the final confrontation, but hey, that’s probably best for everyone.

Some months later, Charlie was killed by the wicked witch when she came to visit the bunker. Dean added his fault in her death to his list. Kevin managed to miraculously survive and was reunited with his mother after Crowley disclosed her location and they staged a rescue op. The Trans are the only ones with a hope of a happily ever after, but Dean will take what he can get.

Cas stayed human and once he defeated Metatron, the angels let him stay that way. He and Dean are all each other have left so, through no conscious choice from either party, they stuck together.

Cas got a job at a grocery store in Iowa. Dean got hired on at an automotive repair shop. They were by no means happy, but for awhile it looked like they might be alright. Cas made a few friends with his coworkers and even went on a date once. Dean finally bought the house he’d wanted since childhood. He mowed the lawn, and washed dishes, and cleaned out the gutters. All the things he didn’t have growing up. None of it made up for Sam not being there to share it with, but it was something. And something was all he needed.

Then Cas got sick.

At first it was just a cold. Then he started losing weight. His appetite came and went. Sometimes not even a burger from B-Bops, his favorite fast food burger joint, was enough to pique his interest. When he passed out at work his coworkers insisted that he be taken to the hospital. It’s there that Castiel discovered that the abdominal pain he’d been experiencing, and not mentioning to Dean, was not normal like he’d assumed. It was cancer.

“ _At the least, level II pancreatic cancer_ ,” the doctor says, but those words don’t mean anything to Cas. To Dean though, they’re a bombshell. Dean walks out as soon as the shock wears off enough that he can move.

“Dean?” Cas asks quietly, ignoring the doctor as he goes on about an overnight stay to do tests and treatments that Castiel doesn’t understand.

Dean doesn’t even look him in the eye. He can’t. He just turns around and walks out of the room. And then out of the hospital itself. He just keeps going. He doesn’t stop to get in the Impala and drive -- he just walks and walks and walks.

He feels heavy and numb. There’s electricity under his skin; itching and itching. He doesn’t think as he walks. Not about Cas or Sammy or anyone else who has died and left him. He just keeps moving his feet and stares directly ahead.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right.

Eventually he stops. His breath is tearing from his lungs in ragged gasps as though he’s been running for hours. There’s a high school to his right and he veers off towards it without any conscious thought of _why_? He settles into a dark corner and it takes him a long moment to figure out why it’s so dark.

Sometime between leaving the hospital and arriving at the high school the sun has set. The street lights are on, but the school is set back from the street far enough that the light doesn’t touch Dean. He remains in the shadows.

It’s cold, he realises some time later. Time seems to be moving strangely. Dean doesn’t feel as though he’s been sitting against the brick school long, but his back aches, his butt is numb, and he’s shivering uncontrollably. It’s March in Iowa, so he really shouldn’t be surprised that his jacket isn’t enough to keep him warm at night.

“Sir, you can’t sleep here.”

It takes Dean a second to react to the voice. He blinks slowly and then squints into the direct glare of a flash light. He moves his arm up to shield his eyes.

“What?” His voice comes out a croak.

“You can’t sleep here,” the voice repeats. Female, Dean notes out of habit. He can’t see past the glare of light, but the authority in her voice leads him to believe that she’s a cop.

For the first time Dean wonders what time it is and just how long it’s been since he left Cas all alone at the hospital. The guilt is quick and ruthless as it takes root in Dean’s gut. He’s no stranger to it, but it still packs a wallop.

“I have a house,” Dean tells the woman.

“What?” she asks.

“I have a house,” Dean repeats. “I wasn’t going to sleep here.”

“Uh huh.”

Dean can tell she doesn’t really believe him or maybe that she’s not quite sure what to make of him. He’s not really sure either.

“Well regardless, you can’t stay here. If you need a ride I can give you one. My shift’s about over anyway,” she offers, finally moving the light off of Dean’s face. Dean blinks hard, trying to get his eyes to adjust.

“I need…” Dean trails off. “I need to get to the hospital.”

“Are you injured?” the woman asks. She finally comes into focus and Dean takes her in. She’s short and stocky with her dark hair styled in a short pixie cut and is from some form of latino heritage.

“No. My… friend, he’s… He has… We just found out… He’s sick. We’re all we’ve got left. He needs me,” Dean tells her quietly, unable to use the c-word.

The woman studies him for a long thoughtful moment and then sighs.

“You know visiting hours are long over, right?” she asks.

“He _needs me_ ,” Dean repeats. _He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be human_ , Dean wants to say.

“Alright, but if the staff won’t let you in, there’s nothing else I can do for you,” she warns.

“Fine,” Dean agrees, knowing that he’ll just break in and go see Cas himself. Rules have never mattered before, why would they now?

The ride to the hospital is quiet. Officer Guzman, as she introduced herself, doesn’t offer up any conversation and Dean is grateful for it. Despite Dean’s assurances that she’s done enough, the officer insists on escorting him inside and confronting the night desk clerk together.

“Visiting hours are over,” is the first thing the young woman says as they approach the desk.

“We’re aware thank you,” Officer Guzman responds, not unkindly. “This young man was hoping to stay with his friend. What’s his name?”

“Cas, uh Castiel Winchester,” Dean answers, the words sticking in his throat. The desk clerk’s expression immediately softens into one that strongly resembles relief.

“Are you Dean?” she asks. Dean nods. “Oh thank goodness. He’s been calling down every half hour asking if you’ve come back yet. We were worried…” she clears her throat as Dean’s stomach clenches. “He’s in room 312 now. You can go on up.”

“Thanks.” The single word sounds shaky and unsure. He nods at Officer Guzman, knowing he won’t be able to get anymore words out past the lump in his throat. As he turns to the elevators he catches the desk clerk mouth the word ‘cancer’ to the officer. He forces his legs to move and pretends like he didn’t see it.

When he reaches the elevator he stops and can’t quite make himself push the button to call it down. He jams his eyes closed and breathes deeply, trying to get past the nausea cramping in his stomach and presses his fist against his lips until they start to tingle. He hears a faint click and his eyes pop back open. Officer Guzman is reaching past him and pushing the call button for him.

He sucks in a shaky breath and drops his hand to his side, but can’t turn his head to meet her eyes. The elevator arrives and the doors open with a chime.

“Chin up. Shoulders back. Head high. He needs you remember?”

Her commands are gentle, but Dean finds himself following them the same way he followed his father’s gruff and unforgiving orders all those years ago.

He steps into the elevator.

Officer Guzman reaches into the car and presses the level 3 button for him.

“Have faith,” she says just as the doors are closing.

Dean wants to laugh, loud and bitter, but he’s sure that if he opens his mouth now he’ll puke. _Have faith_. Faith in _what_? The angels are probably settling in with popcorn to watch the show. _Have faith_.

The doors open and Dean steps out. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Down the hall.

He doesn’t think about angels now. He doesn’t think about the pity party Officer Guzman and the desk clerk are probably throwing for him downstairs either. All he thinks about is one step at a time, one foot in front of the other and he’ll make it. Just like always.

The door to 312 is cracked open and Dean can see the tell tale flickering blue light of a TV through the gap. He pushes the door open without knocking.

The shock of messy black hair against the stark hospital white of the sheets leaves Cas looking young and boyish. Cas looks small in the hospital bed, in the hospital gown. His voice sounds small.

“Dean?”

Dean closes the door behind him until it clicks into place. He walks cautiously to the bed studying Cas’s face, but all he can find in his expression is relief.

“I was worried,” Cas states, his gaze drinking Dean in just like always.

Dean works his throat, trying to swallow despite the desert-like quality of his mouth and throat.

“Come here please,” Cas requests, placing his hand on the bed beside him.

It’s all the encouragement Dean needs. Without bothering to kick off his boots, or remove his coat, Dean climbs into bed beside Cas and clings to him, burying his face in his neck. Cas holds him just as tightly, his nose pressed almost painfully into Dean’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dean doesn’t even realise it’s him talking in that broken, pleading whisper until Cas is shushing him and stroking his hand through the short bristly hair on the back of Dean’s head.

And if Cas notices his neck growing wet where Dean has buried his face he doesn’t mention it. And if Dean notices his shirt growing wet as well, he doesn’t mention it either.

**~*~**

After his initial freak out Dean refuses to leave Castiel’s side. Through the tests, the diagnosis, the treatments, the recovery; Dean sticks. When the doctors tell them that Castiel has entered Stage III pancreatic cancer Dean is the one who suggests selling the house and moving to Minnesota to be closer to Mayo Clinic. After Cas has his third breakdown over the stifling hospital environment Dean is the one to confront the doctors and insist that any and all recovering can be done at their townhouse. When Cas cries himself to sleep after his first chemo treatment Dean lays next to him and stays awake the whole night to make sure Cas gets his pain meds as soon as he’s allowed to. When Cas goes into remission Dean is the one to drive him back to Iowa just so Cas can have a celebratory B-Bops burger that he’s missed so much.

Then when the cancer comes back, angry and unmerciful, Dean is the one to hold Cas while Cas cries and Dean pretends that his world isn’t ending. When the doctors announce that Castiel more than likely only has a year left Dean is the one who explains to Cas about bucket lists and then helps him make one.

Of course, Cas can’t ever be normal, so his list has things like:

  * Watch the bees again ( _seriously?_ )
  * Help someone in need
  * Visit Saturn again ( _haha when’d you become such a kidder?_ **I am as I have always been.** )
  * Introduce Dean to the miracle of birth ( _HELL NO_ )



But there are also totally do-able things like:

  * Watch the sunset from the Impala with Dean
  * Watch the sun come back up again the next day ( _sap_ )
  * Take Dean to the Kennedy space center ( _cool_ )
  * Pet a cat
  * Watch the Star Wars trilogy with Dean ( _it’s a saga, Cas_)
  * Go on a road trip with Dean ( _YES!_ )
  * Hang glide? [preferably with Dean] ( _NO_ **Please?** _...We’ll see…_ )



The list goes on for two whole pages, each line containing one item. Dean hopes it’s enough. The last thing on Cas’s list is so heavily crossed out that the pen nearly went through the paper and no matter how many times Dean asks what it was Cas refuses to answer. Eventually Dean lets it go.

He doesn’t let himself think past the year that Cas has left. He doesn’t let Cas talk about what Dean is going to do when Cas is gone. For all intents and purposes, Dean knows that after Cas dies he might as well follow suit. He’ll have nothing left. But for the time being he focuses everything he does have on Cas.

It takes two days for Cas to finish his bucket list. By the time he’s done he’s been discharged from the hospital.

“Alright, lemme see it,” Dean says as he slides behind the wheel of the Impala. He’s just finished loading Cas’s overnight bag into the trunk and made sure that Cas got buckled in okay. He tires out easy these days.

Cas passes over the slightly crinkled notebook paper and Dean skims over it, front and back. He snorts and rolls his eyes at a few things, but overall deems it a success.

“Okay, let’s go cross something off,” he says. He hands back the list and starts the Impala with her trademark rumble.

“Which are we accomplishing first?” Cas asks, squinting at his list as though he’ll be able to guess what Dean has in mind.

“It’s a surprise,” Dean tells him and pulls out of the hospital parking lot.

It’s a damp day in November, so there’s a fair amount of things on the list that they can’t do, like plant a tree, go Christmas caroling, or attend a carnival. But the one Dean has in mind is just about perfect he thinks. And if it goes the way he wants it to, then it’ll keep Cas happy and occupied for a long time.

**~*~**

20 minutes later they pull up in front of a grey morose looking building and Castiel frowns.

“ARL? What does that stand for,” he asks, reading the sign at the edge of the minescule parking lot.

“Animal Rescue League,” Dean answers, a large grin sweeping over his features. Castiel smiles back, not because of where they are, but because he hasn’t seen Dean smile like this since they were told he was in remission and the cancer might be going away.

“Will they let us simply pet a cat while we’re here?” Castiel asks, unbuckling his seat belt. Dean climbs out of his side and jogs around the car to help him out even though it’s one of his good days and he could do it himself. Castiel simply lets him. If it gives Dean comfort to help him even when he doesn’t need him, the least Castiel can do is allow him that comfort.

“I’m gonna do you one better, Cas,” Dean tells him after he opens Castiel’s door and offers him an arm, that grin still stretched across his tired face. “I want you to pick a cat, whatever one you want, and we’re going to adopt it and take it home.”

“Really?” Castiel asks, frozen halfway out of the car. “Are you sure? The responsibility of owning a pet is not something to be taken lightly.”

“I know you’ll do great Cas,” Dean assures him as he hauls him the rest of the way out of the car. Castiel frowns.

“But Dean. You’ll have to, too. Once I’m gone-,”

“ _I know, Cas_ ,” Dean snaps, smile immediately gone and replaced by ugly, angry desperation. Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steadying himself, looking just as world weary as he has since the night Sam died and the angels were expelled from heaven. Perhaps with a few extra worry wrinkles and grey hairs. Castiel waits.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, and the mask is back in place. The one Dean wears when he pretends that everything is going to be okay. That he, Dean, is going to be okay. Castiel is no fool. He knows that his inevitable death will be the thing to break Dean for good and ever. Dean’s already lost everything else and he’s never been all that good at living for himself.

“It’s alright, Dean,” Castiel says, just like always. It’s never alright and he knows that Dean knows it, but this is how they function. This is how they keep moving and hold each other together. By pretending that the world isn’t crumbling apart beneath their feet.

“D’you still want to go inside?” Dean asks hesitantly.

“I would enjoy nothing more,” Castiel tells him.

Castiel spends over an hour observing all of the different cats up for adoption. There are so many, how will he ever choose just one? Does he want a cat or a kitten? Claws or no claws? (It seems cruel to tear them out, but what does he know?) Male or female? Long haired or short haired? There are so many contributing factors that Castiel must admit that he spends the first 45 minutes just wandering from cage to cage, overwhelmed.

Dean calls him over to pass judgement on another cat and Castiel can tell right off that she is beautiful. Startling blue eyes against a white backdrop. She’s a short hair, mostly white with some very light tan markings on her head and tail. She’s not quite 3 years old which Dean assures him is the most ripe age for adopting. Castiel could be very happy with this cat. He opens his mouth to tell Dean so when a tired green stare catches his eye.

In the cage to the right is another cat. She is sitting and simply watching him without blinking or moving much at all. She’s another shorthair, a patchy gray and white coat. The end of her nose is black like she pressed it onto an ink pad. But she’s much older than the cat Dean was showing him. 16 years old. She’s still watching Castiel with that weary stare, like she knows that he won’t be taking her home and that she will live out the rest of her life in this cage. Who would want such an old cat after all?

“Cas?” Dean asks, touching his shoulder gently.

Castiel blinks, only then realising that he’d been holding the cat’s stare.

“I’ve decided this is the one,” Castiel announces.

Dean blinks and then moves over to check out the cat.

“Maggie? Well I guess we can change the name to something better.”

“No. She’s 16 years old, Dean. I can imagine that she’s grown rather attached to her name in that length of time,” Castiel refutes.

“16? I dunno, Cas. That’s pretty old don’t you think?” Dean says, not looking at Castiel, but instead closely examining the cat through the metal cage. Maggie levels him with a cool stare.

“Does it matter?” Castiel asks.

Dean’s jaw clenches, but then he breathes through it and hitches up a smile before turning to face Castiel. Castiel finds himself inexplicably disappointed.

“Alright. If this is the cat you want, this is the cat you get.”

He turns and waves the animal rescue employee over and not even half an hour later Castiel has his arms full of fluffy cat in the shotgun seat of the Impala on their way to Walmart to buy pet supplies.

**~*~**

Dean did good. He knows he did. Cas and his dumb cat are totally in love. They’re always together in their little apartment and despite Cas’s protests against changing the cat’s name, Cas has taken to calling her _Magnolia_ for whatever reason. He insists that it’s what Maggie is short for. Dean just sticks to calling her Maggie or, more commonly, ‘your cat’.

After Cas gets his cat all settled in they get back to work on Cas’s list. The next thing they cross off is carving pumpkins (even though the season for it is technically over). They manage to find some leftover at a local gardening center. Cas doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he would, but Dean loves it. Mostly he just loves wiping his goopy pumpkin gut covered fingers through Cas’s (miraculously still there) hair and then the ensuing chase around the apartment.

Next item is the corn maze. Dean, again, has more fun than Cas, but mostly because Cas gets cold halfway through and turns miserable. Which leads to crossing off item number four: Buy more sweaters. Once Cas is all cozy in three horrendously ugly sweaters they settle in on the couch with a cooler of beer, endless chips and popcorn, and the entire Star Wars saga. Cas, of course, falls asleep midway through Empire Strikes Back, but Dean can’t really blame him considering.

They don’t resume their Star Wars marathon for another week because Dean has to work. Castiel keeps himself busy though. Dean bought him a ton of acrylic paint and thick painting paper so Cas has been trying his hand at painting. Frankly, Dean thinks everything he’s made so far could have been done better by a three year old, but hey. Cas is happy so Dean is happy.

They spend all day Saturday watching the rest of the Star Wars movies. Cas is having a bad day so it works out that they spend most of it huddled together on the couch. His pain meds keep making him drift off, but Cas tells him that he doesn’t mind missing bits and pieces of the movies. Dean believes him because he’s pretty sure that Cas would rather watch Animal Planet than anything science fiction.

They steadily make their way through the list together. November turns into December and Dean makes Cas three pans full of brownies so he can ‘ _ingest them until he vomits_ ’. Cas gets through one and a half before giving in. He does end up puking later, but Dean isn’t sure if it’s because of the brownies or the new meds the doctor gave him.

They go Christmas caroling and it goes horribly since neither of them know the right words, but they stop at the bar afterwards and get drunk enough to make it funny. While they’re there Cas buys everyone in the bar a drink on him, totalling out to almost a $300 bill. Cas buys Dean an itchy sweater for Christmas and Dean gets him a snowglobe with a stained glass windowed church trapped inside.

January kicks off with watching fireworks on New Years and then Cas convinces Dean to take three weeks of vacation so they can get to the beach via that road trip Cas also wanted to take. They decide on Florida only because Cas also wants to take Dean to the Kennedy Space Center.

Once the cat is safely with their next door neighbor and Dean is behind the wheel of the Impala he unwinds for the first time in months. They take a week to get to Florida, stopping anywhere that looks fun. They stop in Memphis and go to a concert that neither of them care for. They play mini golf and attend an auction in Kentucky (Dean doesn’t want to talk about the hideous vase that Cas won). They go to a waffle house in Georgia. They spend ten minutes at a car show just across the Florida border, but Cas gets bored and drags Dean back out the door, $5 entrance fee be damned.

By the time they make it to the coast they’ve spent half of their money and they’re _smiling_. Honest to God _smiling_. Cas discovers that he loves the ocean. He loves the crashing waves and the _energy_ ; the feel of the sand and even the stiff salty wind that never seems to let up. Dean discovers that the beach is not his kind of thing. The water is cold and tastes bad and tries to drag him off his feet. The sand gets everywhere and clings to Baby, and the wind is friggin’ _cold_.

But he finds out that he does love _Cas_ at the beach. His hair wind blown, his skin sparkling in the dim, clouded over sunlight from the sand crystals embedded everywhere, and his eyes bluer than ever before. His favorite, absolute favorite, thing though is the free and easy smile that never seems to leave Cas even when his lips aren’t actually curved. His whole self is completely at peace here and Dean loves it.

In the end they have to leave early.

Cas starts getting short of breath from something as simple as exiting the Impala. He stops being able to hide his pain-filled grimaces anytime he needs to bend or stoop. Dean allows him one last day at the beach to say goodbye to the ocean and they head back that night.

The drive back is quiet. Cas spends most of it asleep and Dean spends most of it trying not to speed too high over the speed limit and keeping one eye out for lurking state troopers and the other on Cas. He just wants Cas to be back home in the safe and familiar where Dean can get him to his doctor within 15 minutes if need be. They make it in just over a day. They retrieve Maggie from the neighbor, set an alarm for the next day to get Cas to his doctor’s appointment that Dean scheduled during the drive home, and then they crash.

Cas gets more hospital time after that excursion and a stern warning to not overdo it in the future. Two weeks later he starts his next round of chemoradiation therapy. It’s like chemotherapy with extra hell thrown in for good measure. The doctors say that it’s the last time they’ll do the therapy if nothing changes. So what Dean gets from it is that it’s make or break time. Now or never. Do or die.

Cas was lucky before. He managed to keep his hair throughout his treatments. He and Dean (mostly Dean) would joke about how he must still have some grace left just for his hair since it’s survived so much chemo. This time he’s not so lucky. His hair starts falling out after the first week. Clumps of brown left behind on his pillow in the morning, clogging the drain to the shower, sticking in his comb, fluttering to the floor every time he runs a hand through his hair or tugs a shirt over his head.

It breaks something in Dean the day he takes out the clippers and buzzes the rest of that soft, perpetually messy hair from Cas’s scalp. As soon as he’s done he holds the clippers out to Cas with the instructions to do his next. Cas smiles sadly and stands from his chair shaking his head.

“I enjoy your hair where it is, Dean,” he tells him gently. And then, cautiously and more gently than Dean has ever done anything in his life, Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair.

That night after Cas takes his medication and is asleep in his very own, brand new electronic adjustable bed ( _just like the ones in the hospital, Dean_ ) Dean breaks down and cries until he can’t anymore and then pulls out the whiskey and drinks until he can’t keep his eyes open.

When Cas finds him in the morning he doesn’t say anything. He just takes what little is left of the whiskey and dumps it down the drain. Once Dean has gotten up and made it past the worst of his hangover Castiel tells him that under no circumstances is there allowed to be anymore hard alcohol in the townhouse. Dean agrees, because Cas is dying and you don’t tell dying people no. And because he’s Cas and Dean doesn’t tell Cas no. Not anymore. Not if he can help it.

They spend the day separate from each other. Cas stays in his room and starts reading the first Harry Potter book and Dean stays on the couch alternating between napping and channel surfing all with an air of misery.

Cas deteriorates from there.

They take the good days that they can get, but they’re finding that they have to spend more and more nights in the hospital.

They make it to the carnival when the weather turns warmer. Cas gets his cotton candy and Dean gets a funnel cake. Cas agrees that the funnel cake is far superior. Cas gets his roller coaster ride, but they don’t stay much longer because Dean can’t take the pitying looks he gets while pushing Cas’s wheelchair and Cas gets sick from riding the teacups and he’s tired anyway and needs to go lay down for a few hours.

They pack in all of the physically demanding activities that litter Cas’s list within a month and a half. On one of Cas’s particularly good days they even manage to go hang gliding and Dean most certainly does not scream like a girl. But once they’re back on the ground Castiel’s scant inch of hair is wind tussled and his eyes are alive and glowing like Dean hasn’t seen since Cas was an angel with grace flowing through his veins. It makes it all worth it just to see him like that even if it does only last an hour.

It makes it all the more surreal when, a month later, Cas collapses at home. Dean rushes him to the hospital and sits for hours with only his thoughts for company. Cas is put on bed rest after that. He says it’s extra incentive to finally read the 7th Harry Potter book and finish the scarf he started for Dean three months ago, but Dean can’t latch onto that silver lining. Not when Cas just keeps getting worse.

In only a few weeks Cas can’t talk above a whisper. Getting up to go to the bathroom is a chore. Cas starts talking about his days as an angel. He tells Dean about Rome in all of it’s glory and how he helped eradicate the Black Plague when things started looking particularly bleak for the humans. He cries when he tells Dean that it was the angels who annihilated the Mayan’s when they discovered too much about how angels work and started summoning them constantly. They were treated as an exterminator would treat the roaches he was sent to eradicate.

They rush to complete the list. Cas finishes Harry Potter and cries the most when Fred dies (the twins were his favorite next to Luna). They watch _A Baby Story_ on TLC and Dean is awkward and uncomfortable and no more enlightened by the end of it, although Cas continues to insist that the act is one of the most beautiful things Earth has to offer. They have breakfast for dinner and Dean complains that it’s the lamest rule to ever be broken and probably doesn’t even count as a rule ( _it’s a rule of social etiquette, Dean_ ), but he stops complaining after Cas eats an entire pancake and half a strip of bacon. It’s more than Cas has eaten during one sitting in weeks.

As the list dwindles down (Ten left to go. Seven. Four. Two) Dean continues to ask about that last thing on the list. The one that Cas crossed off. Each time he asks Cas changes the subject or simply flat out refuses to answer.

Cas starts asking Dean to stay with him at night. He says that he sleeps better with Dean there. Dean doesn’t see how that could possibly be since Cas usually spends most of the daytime sleeping too and Dean can’t possibly be there for all of that, even with having been allowed unpaid leave from his job to take care of Cas. But he doesn’t say anything. He just slides into bed beside the former angel and holds him tight and tries not to let any tears land on him.

Of course it would be too much to ask that Cas not know of Dean’s almost nightly cry-fest. One night Cas, who is supposed to be asleep, reaches up and wipes away the tears from the cheek not currently pressed into the pillow and touches his lips lightly to the bottom of Dean’s jaw before snuggling back down against Dean’s chest. If he notices the trickle of tears tickling his scalp he doesn’t say anything.

Then, one day Dean wakes up to Cas whimpering and stiff with pain in his arms.

“Cas? You okay buddy?” Dean asks softly, realizing as he asks it that it’s a stupid question. He’s dying. Of course he’s not okay.

He reaches for the bottle of pills on the nightstand and shakes one out into his palm before grabbing the glass of water sitting there for just this reason. Cas grunts his thanks as he accepts the medicine and then places the straw between his lips and sucks down a generous amount from the glass while Dean holds it for him.

They lay in silence for some time before Cas’s muscles finally unclench and he can relax. Dean idly traces patterns on the back of Cas’s hand, knowing that focusing on the motion helps take Cas out of the pain and gives him something pleasant to hold onto.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean.”

Dean freezes mid-swirl, his heart immediately jumping into his throat at the ragged words. But he’s not surprised. It’s been a long time coming.

“I know,” he answers. The words catch in his throat and are barely audible by the time they cross his lips.

“I fought as long as I could, but Dean, I’m just… I’m just so tired,” Cas admits, his blue eyes dull and flat and sad, so sad as they take Dean in.

“I know. It’s okay.” The words are physically painful as they push their way past the lump in Dean’s throat making it hard to breathe.

“Don’t cry, Dean. I love you.”

Dean doesn’t know why Cas thinks he needs to tell him not to cry, but he leans into the thumb Cas swipes under his eye anyway.

“Love you too, Cas,” Dean whispers, tracing a knuckle lightly along the curve of Cas’s cheek. Cas closes his eyes and leans into the touch. When he opens them again they’re full of relief, but it’s quickly shunted away as another spike of pain pulsates through him.

“It hurts, Dean.”

Something drips onto Cas’s shoulder and Dean can’t be bothered to wipe the rest of the tears from his face. He just lets them drip.

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay. You can let go.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Dean. I don’t care how long. I’ll wait.”

“I know,” Dean chokes. His chest is heaving now, sobs are pushing their way out whether Dean wants them to or not. Cas grabs his hand and holds on as tightly as he can and Dean grips back twofold. Cas brings Dean’s hand to his lips and presses his knuckles against his chapped before lowering their clasped hands to rest on his chest. His eyes close and he sighs, seemingly content with the small gesture.

Cas goes still. His chest doesn’t move. His eyes don’t blink open to fix that unwavering blue stare onto Dean.

“Cas?” It’s just a croak and really Dean doesn’t even have to ask. He can see it with his eyes and feel the hole left behind in his soul. Cas is gone.

Dean lays his forehead down to press against Cas’s chest and he lets it all go. He sobs openly and holds nothing back as his body bucks and spasms with the strength of them. He has no room left in him for shame or embarrassment. It’s all just pain and grief and the horrible bleak loneliness.

Cas was the last one. He was it for Dean. The last of his family, his friends, and the only person that Dean has ever truly been in love with. He was the only thing keeping Dean going and now he’s gone. Dean is barely 40 and has run out of reasons to live.

Dean raises his head only to press a hard kiss to Cas’s slightly chilled and unmoving lips. He ends it quickly as it relieves none of the ache in his chest and only makes him want to vomit. _He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone._

Dean stays with Cas’s body for hours before he finally calls the hospital to come and see to the body. He doesn’t remember what exactly he said on the phone, but when the ambulance shows up in front of the townhouse without any lights or sirens he figures they got the drift.

Everything has a surreal white-edged tint to it after that. Dean lets the paramedics in and shows them to the bedroom. He watches while they confirm what he already knows and then as they take Cas away.

Dean does puke then. To see them maneuver Cas’s stiff pale body onto the gurney makes it all too real for him. Vaguely he notices someone in the bathroom with him. Patting his shoulder and saying something, but for the life of him Dean couldn’t tell you what. He just knows he needs to go. He needs to get out. He can’t breath in here. The air from Cas’s last breath is lingering and it’s choking him.

He just needs to take the Impala and get out, just go. But when Dean steps out of the front door and his eyes land on the Impala in all of her warm shining black beauty he can’t think of escape. He can only think of Cas and his shopping bag of ugly sweaters, sleeping with his head resting against the glass window, sitting on the hood with Dean and watching the sun go down and then watching it come back up from under a mountain of blankets in the back seat, Cas standing on the beach his eyes brilliant blue, alight with joy, and _alive_ and he just can’t do it. He can’t.

So he turns away and he starts walking. He just has to get away. From everything that makes him think of his dead brother or dead best friend/would-be lover, his old life. He needs to get away. He ignores the faint sounds of people calling after him, not sure if they’re in his head or not, and keeps walking. Walking away from the pain and the hurt and the sadness. There’s nothing left for him here.

He steps into the street, the voices still calling after him, but he can’t go back. He can’t. Not without Cas.

By the time the shrieking horn gets through the thick all encompassing fog in his head it’s too late. Dean looks up and the last thing he sees is the front grill of a delivery truck. Then there’s brief pain, fearful voices and then finally, _finally_ , blissful empty black.

**~*~**

_An Epilogue of sorts…_

**~*~**

White. It’s penetrating and all encompassing and honestly it’s hurting his eyes a bit. It’s very very… White.

“This is where I leave you,” Tessa says from Dean’s right. Dean looks over at her and smiles.

“It was a good run,” he says. She snorts and rolls her eyes.

“Considering you were supposed to be here over a decade ago, I’d have to agree,” she says drily.

Dean grins.

“I’ll see you around,” Dean tells her. She shoots him a severe look.

“I certainly hope not. This once, could you just stay dead?”

Dean laughs, loud and light, like he hasn’t in ages.

“Dean?”

His breath catches in his chest at the familiar voice, as illogical as that is. He’s _dead_. He doesn’t even _need_ to breath anymore, and there almost definitely isn’t any air in heaven.

“Cas?” Dean asks, holding his breath against all reason.

He turns and there he is, looking like he used to back before everything went down the shitter. Before the cancer and the angels falling and losing his grace and the leviathans and all the absolute _shit_ that they’ve had to go through to get here. His hair is dark and sets off his startling blue eyes and he’s smiling, fucking _smiling_ for real. There isn’t an ounce of pain showing in his face, or the way he’s walking towards Dean. He doesn’t look small and fragile anymore. He looks like he could smite a demon army with a single glance. He just looks like Cas. He looks like _home_. Dean is so busy looking he doesn’t notice Tessa fade away beside him.

“Dean,” Cas says again, that smile still quirking up the corners of his lips.

Dean tries to swallow the lump in his throat and beat back the wetness building in his eyes, but the tears spill over anyway and he trips forward the last few feet until he’s flush against the man in front of him and fisting the back of the ugly tan trenchcoat in his hands. Cas doesn’t hesitate to fold Dean against him and hold tightly to the one he was just ripped away from.

“I missed you,” Dean says into Castiel’s neck.

“You’re earlier than I’d expected,” Cas comments with no judgement in his words that rumble through his chest. Dean laughs bitterly and humorlessly.

“Yeah. I was… A little messed up. I didn’t, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I don’t… I’m not upset that it happened. I couldn’t have… I didn’t want to…”

“I know,” Cas reassures him gently.

Dean nods in thanks and maybe squeezes a little tighter. To think he had to spend any time at all away from this hurts more than he’d ever admit. It feels like an eternity before Dean can bring himself to let go and take a step back, but that’s as far as he gets. His hand clenches onto Cas’s sleeve to keep him there and it’s only a little embarrassing. It helps that Cas doesn’t make a big deal about it.

“I meant it you know,” Cas says quietly, looking down at where Dean’s clutching onto his coat rather than his face. “When I told you that I love you. I meant it. I _mean_ it.”

Dean’s heartbeat stutters and then picks up to work double time, even though he technically doesn’t have one.

“I did too,” he confesses, staring across at Cas’s face, wide eyed and more anxious than he’d like to make known. Cas looks up, startled, to meet his gaze. Cas blinks and his brow wrinkles.

“I mean that I’m _in love_ with you, Dean. I always have been,” Cas says carefully. Dean grins slowly.

“I know. I _need you_ , Cas,” he confesses and Cas’s face falls and he looks back down. Dean hooks a finger under his chin to drag that intoxicating gaze back up to meet his. “And I _want_ you,” Dean continues, removing his finger from Cas’s chin to rub his thumb over Cas’s cheek bone and cup his palm around his perpetually stubble covered jaw. “And I love you, Cas. I can’t say since always because you were kind of a dick at first but it’s been for a long ti-,”

Cas surges forward and puts an abrupt end to Dean’s words by pressing his mouth against Dean’s. The kiss is rough and over before Dean can even get his eyes closed. Cas takes half a step back, an apology on his lips, but Dean stops him with the hand that’s still clamped on Cas’s sleeve and drags him back into a proper kiss.

Dean releases his hold only to frame Cas’s face between both hands and then kisses him for all he’s worth. Cas stands there for a long moment, unresponsive and stunned, but then he’s moving in and pressing closer and he’s not sure what to do with his hands so they end up a little bit of everywhere. Dean’s sides, his chest, around his neck, through his hair, his shoulders, his hips. Dean chuckles and bites Cas’s lip gently before pulling back with a smirk already on his lips.

Cas takes his time opening his eyes and when he does they immediately meet Dean’s.

“That was… Good?” he asks, only slightly breathless.

“It was perfect,” Dean tells him and leans in for a chaste but lingering kiss. They’ve got the rest of eternity, so why rush it? They continue on for, Dean has no idea how long, before Cas finally pulls back and seems to be gathering his thoughts and remembering a few important matters.

“We need to go,” he says. Dean pouts at him, eliciting another of those small, but genuine smiles from Cas.

“Sam has been asking for you.”

“Sammy?” Dean parrots, the wind knocked out of him. His baby brother. He gets to see him- No. He gets to spend the rest of time with him, not worrying about keeping him safe or fighting off the next apocalypse. They can just _be_ for the first time ever.

“Yes. And he has a young blonde woman with him.”

“Jess?” Dean asks, a grin stretching his mouth.

“Well, yes her too, but I was referring to Mary,” Cas tells him with a smug grin.

“ _Mom_?” Dean absolutely _does_ _not squeak_.

“Mmm. And Bobby said he has a few words for you as well,” Cas informs him. Dean is speechless. Somehow he never really thought about this enough to realize that everyone he’s ever loved is here. Everyone he’s spent _every day_ on Earth missing, they’re all here.

“They’re waiting,” Cas says, offering Dean his hand. Dean only stares at it for a half-second before intertwining his fingers through Cas’s and allowing the former angel to lead the way.

“Let’s go home.”

"Yes. Home," Cas agrees. Dean starts walking, but his steps falter for a second and it doesn't go unnoticed by Castiel.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Dean shrugs.

"Oh nothing really. It just sucks that you didn't get to finish your list," Dean says, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Cas frowns, a line forming between his brows.

"I did finish it," he reminds Dean, but Dean is already shaking his head.

"You did not. There was that last one still. The one you crossed out."

Castiel's expression clears.

"I completed that one as well," he tells Dean and tries to continue their walk. Dean plants his feet and refuses to budge.

"What? What was it?" Dean demands. Cas smiles fondly.

"To tell you that I love you. As you'll recall I've done that a few times already today," he says and can't quite hide the smug quirk to his lips.

"Oh," Dean says and then shakes his head and punches Cas's shoulder with the hand that isn't still being held in Castiel's. "You're such a sap."

"But you love me anyway," Cas says as they start walking. Dean rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Now you're pushing it."

Cas's face falls into uncertainty and Dean sighs heavily. He grabs Cas by the lapels and pulls him in for a surprisingly gentle kiss.

"Yeah I love you anyway, okay?" he says quietly. Cas smiles slowly and Dean scoffs before stepping back and continuing on in the direction Cas had been leading him before.

"Now you're turning _me_ into a sap. Not a word to Sam, got it?"

"Of course, Dean."

  
**end.**

**Author's Note:**

> So... Yeah that happened. I'd love to hear from you! Leave a review. :)


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